Wonders and Wishes
by lastofyourpicknmix
Summary: Do wonders and wishes stay a figment of the imagination forever?  - Carla and Peter
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys, this is my first fanfic. Hope I've done Carla justice with this! Not sure whether to leave this as a one shot or continue it, I've got an idea I think could evolve though, so we'll see. This is set before Frank is introduced, or just in an alternative universe where he doesn't exist.**  
><strong>Reviews are loved and appreciated.<br>X **

She'd always been a writer, ever since she was little writing was always a secret passion. She'd write everything down, stories; plans; confessions; troubles; she always felt better afterwards, it was like writing it down made whatever it was make sense. Carla always managed to put pen to paper, no matter what the situation may be. She missed it, missed writing, what with all the current technology all she did these days was send emails. Emails, just another excuse for laziness and poor writing skills.

Someone had once told a younger Carla 'when ever you need to tell someone something, write it down. A letter. No need to send it, just write it, clear your mind', and she'd done exactly that ever since. She remembered all the letters she'd written in the past, she remembered writing a lot when she was with Paul, a mixture of anger, happiness, sadness and pure distress, the wide array of emotions showing the ups and downs that their relationship had always had. But that was years ago now, her life had taken so many twists and turns since then, the most recent of the twists and turns leading her to where she was now; her dull office at underworld, the small desk lamp giving off a slither of light, lighting only the paper in front of her, leaving her in the darkness. How fitting, she thought.

She leant back in her chair, swilling her wine around the glass as she checked the clock, 11pm. She knocked back the wine, enjoying the feeling of it rushing down her throat. Sitting forward again she placed the glass back on the desk, little to no grace involved with her actions as she grabbed the paper, straightening it up before beginning to write.

_'Dear Peter,'  
><em>  
>Well, that was always going to be the easy part, but where did she go next? She lifted her hands to her head, letting the pen fall haphazardly before rubbing her temples, shutting her eyes whilst exhaling deeply. Moments later she pulled the pen back, now or never she thought.<p>

_'Peter Barlow, you leather jacket wearing backstreet bookie. You dishevelled and lost excuse of a man that I have fallen hopelessly and deeply in love with. Even writing this makes me want to get up, go over to that brick wall and head-butt it. Why have I done this? I think about all the offers I've had in the past, architects; rich business men; even a footballer once, yet here I am in love with you? A cheap bloke who wouldn't care or even notice if I sailed off the side of the earth tomorrow. It's pathetic, I am pathetic._

_I sit alone a lot, usually in the evening after drinking my usual intake of the liquid you and I both love, strong booze. I know you crave it, just like I crave you. It's our loose connection, both forever attached to the fact we have an alcohol addiction. I cling on to it, knowing without that you wouldn't ever have a reason to even smile across the street or check on me once a month. Again, how pathetic. But when I am sitting alone, I wonder, wonder if things could be different. Wonder what Leanne has that I don't. Wonder if I do cross your mind. Wonder if I could get you into my bed, somehow. I hate it, hate everything. But that's me I guess - Ice queen, Carla Connor, the 30 something year old drunk, divorcee running the knicker factory, throwing herself at anything that shows her a bit of attention. Dirty flirt with an even dirtier giggle. Wonder why you don't want me? Hardly._

_I wish you saw more of me, wish you realised that list isn't the actual me.. Mainly wish that you wanted me, just how I want you. I wish I wasn't sitting here in my office at 11pm, opening my heart out wide, sharing my hopes and insignificant wishes with someone who will never care, or even know about them._

_I wish you knew the silly things, like the fact that when I go to sleep at night I rub my nose, something I've done since I was little, the only thing that used to get me to sleep when I could hear my Mum in the next room doing all sorts with all sorts of men.. I wish you knew that I love cherryade, so simple and silly, but I do. I guess it's a nice break from the wine every now and again. I wish you knew I loved birds, mainly seagulls. When I take myself away, I often go to the seaside. I sit on my own, usually in a café, watching the sea roll in and out, the seagulls dipping low onto the sand, braving the kids around, trying to nab their dinners. I wish you knew how much I hated the rain and how much I loved the snow. I wish you knew I had a birthmark, wish you knew where it was, what shape it was, just because you could know.. I just want you to know anything and everything about me. Insignificant to everyone else, but significant for me._

_I wish I could talk to you. Talk to you properly, tell you about my childhood properly. I wish I could tell you my fears. Did you know I hate butterflies? I've never even understood why, I just hate them fluttering near me._

_There is just so much you don't know about me._

_So much you could know._

_But now, our paths are set, you being the reliable family man that you are and me being the hopeless in love spinster. I'll always admire your loyalty, to your son and Leanne too and I hope you're always happy, as happy as you can be, forever. One day, maybe happiness will come up and jump on me again, I'll look forward to it and I'll look forward to seeing you, even if does break me knowing I'll never be able to kiss your grumpy face when I see you on a Monday morning._

_I'll always wish there was more to me and you, and I hope you will always remember me, even if it is the simplistic way that you and most people see me now._

_You'll always be in my thoughts,_

_Your Carla x'_

With that she wiped the tears from her cheeks, the ones that had been trickling ever since she'd let her pen make that first cursive scribble on the paper. She sniffed softly, whilst folding the letter and placing it in her bag, ready to take it home, never to be seen by the sought after recipient.

They were her wonders and wishes, to be kept deep inside, hidden by her, forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the reviews, the subscribing and the favouriting! I really wasn't sure about this so the reassurance was brilliant. A million thank you's! This chapter is slightly longer. Hope you enjoy it my lovleys.**  
><strong>X<strong>

Chapter 2:

_'Dear Peter,_

_Second time writing to you in one week. Wow, this is becoming a habit.. _

_But I need to talk to someone, and since you're too busy with your beloved and Michelles on the cruise, well I'm pretty stuck. So here I am, with only this pen and paper to converse with once more._

_You want to know how I feel right now? I don't know why I'm asking, this is my letter and I'll write whatever I want. This is one thing that I do have full power over._

_I feel cold, stone cold, I feel there is no blood rushing around my body anymore, it is as if everything has come to a standstill. It's horrible. I feel sick and I feel weak, I feel tired but sleep is not what I need. Sleeping would be near on impossible in the state I am now. I feel hollow, like someone has drained away every last bit of fight I'd been savouring up inside me. I feel useless, worthless too. I feel lost. The plan I've always had is ruined, the decisions taken from me, my power gone._

_I am alone, again._

_But all these feelings, I know I can get them to go away, that's why I stopped off on my way home. I stopped off at Dev's, the open sign always has brought a smile to my face, today was no exception. I didn't need to browse, I'd chosen my poison long before. Vodka. Always a favourite of mine and I know it was one of yours too. It's the way it looks so innocent, so feeble, so harmless. But I want the harm. I want to feel its effects taking over me, I want to forget everything, I need to forget everything. There is no way of hiding it, I'm damaged, but this will help. I know it will._

_I've started Peter, and that first swig felt so good._

_If I didn't have the booze I'd be sitting here quivering, searching for some kind of constant in my life, something to keep me going. But there is no such thing, it just doesn't exist. I wish it did though, I wish you were my constant, my forever. I want you, I want the stability you have, the stability that I so desperately crave and search for at the bottom of a bottle. I wish you could be here with me now, I hate to admit it but I need a man. There is only so long I can be the strong one, I need a break and now is break time! I wish you knew that, wish you could cuddle me, make me feel warm again, make me feel safe, loved, wanted._

_I needed you earlier. I kept thinking if you were there things would have been so different. You would've been the calming influence that you always are for me, you would've made sure I didn't make a fool out of myself. Maybe you could've put things in to perspective for me, shedding some light on to how this was happening. Why it was happening even. I feel so desperate in the way that I need you. Right now, I'd give anything to hear your voice, even if you were screaming at me, I'd just love to know that I was in your mind, to know I was what you were thinking about, just for a minute. But you wouldn't scream, not if you knew the truth. Yes you'd be angry that I'm now half way through this bottle, but you know what it's like._

_I want to tell you. I want your help. No, I need your help._

_You want to know why I'm feeling the way I am? Why I'm sitting here, literally wishing I wasn't me? Why I'm practically wishing my life away? It's because I'm done. Finished. There is no fight left in me anymore and right now fighting is the only thing I should be doing. You see, my life has already been wished away. The angels are calling on me, or so it seems. The fights gone and soon I'll be gone with it._

_I have cancer, Peter._

_This is it._

_Carla x'_

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><p>She stumbled slightly as one of the heels of her classic black boots got caught in the cobbles. She laughed before steadying herself, using the wall to hold her up. She knew she was a mess, she knew she'd probably had enough, but that didn't stop her wanting more, which was why she was slowly but surely making her way to Dev's again. Her bag fell from her shoulder, slipping down her arm whilst she walked. She sighed, pushing her purse and her 2 letters back in the bag forcefully before pulling it back up on her shoulder.<p>

Peter came out of the Rovers, chuckling at something Leanne had just said whilst he pulled his cigarette pack out of his pocket. He leant against the wall, sparking up. He took a few drags of his cigarette, trying to hurry it up as the cool air nipped at his bare arms. It was on his fourth drag that he saw her, she was walking round the corner, practically falling over her own feet. He knew it was Carla straight away and it didn't take a genius to spot that she was drunk. He frowned, watching her for a moment longer before shouting.

'Carla? You alright?' He looked across the street, waiting for a response.

Carlas head shot up and she squinted, trying to see if it was actually Peter talking to her or just a figment of her imagination. She almost smiled when she saw him, before catching sight of him frowning at her.

'Oh aye, the one and only, fine and dandy.' Her words were slurred and almost incomprehensible from where he was.

He sighed, throwing his cigarette on the ground and making his way over to her, hating watching her fall all over the place.

'Someones had a hard night on the slosh.' He spoke softly, no anger apparent as he put a hand on her back, trying to steady her.

'Mm' she nodded her head, 'And I plan to continue it.' She looked up at him as she spoke, her eyes glazed over and half shut.

Peter shook his head, 'I think you've had enough. Come on, we better get you home.'

Carla tried to move away, pushing his arm from her.

'I'll do what I like thank you! And if I want another drink, I'll have one.'

Peter replaced his arm, knowing she'd listen eventually.

'I think we both know that's not a good idea.'

She tripped as he was speaking, falling straight to the ground, his arm around her proving no where near the amount of support she needed. He rubbed his head with a soft sigh as he leant down, pulling her back up to a standing position.

'Right that definitely proves it. You need to go to bed.'

Carla didn't speak, for once, she just let him support her as they walked through the streets. She could feel her leg throbbing, she knew that tumble was not one of her best moves and she'd probably have some unattractive cuts and bruises to remember it by in the morning.

It had been a struggle and had taken the best part of the hour, but Peter had finally managed to get Carla back to her flat. He positioned her so she was leaning against the wall before taking her bag from her arm, rummaging for her keys. She hadn't protested, she was far too gone to even realise what had been happening now. He sighed thinking how much crap she had in her bag. He threw some bits on the floor, a hairbrush, a leaflet, her purse, a few pieces of folded up paper. After doing so, he finally managed to find her keys and open the front door. After a lot of shuffling and struggled walking with the assistance of Peter, Carla was finally on her sofa, awkwardly positioned she drifted off in an instant, the heaviness of her head and eyes made it feel impossible to stay awake.

Peter retreated back to the door, picking up her belongings that were scattered upon the floor. He walked back inside, using his foot to kick the door shut before walking over to the counter, leaving the items there. He shook his head for what seemed like the 50th time in the past hour as he looked over at her once more. He felt sympathetic, he knew what it was like to be addicted, it would be hypocritical for him to think any less of her because of her addiction. He decided he needed a coffee, the strongest thing he could allow himself to these days. He flicked on the kettle and waited for it to boil, shifting his attention back to the objects he'd taken from her bag earlier. He picked up the leaflet, a save the whales leaflet, obviously given to her by someone in the street. It was crumpled, she obviously couldn't care less. He chuckled inwardly before throwing it the bin beside him. He picked up the folded pieces of paper next, wondering if they too were useless charity leaflets.

He couldn't have been more wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this, I've just been so busy with coursework and actual work. But I've finally got the third part down for you all. It's a bit long and a bit rambley but I felt it was necessary to understand all Peters thoughts about the letters. Hope it's alright for you all.  
>Reviews are loved and appreciated as always! And so many thanks to the people who have reviewed this, it's so lovely to read them all!<br>x

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><p>Peter unfolded the first piece of paper that held in his hands, he scanned it quickly upon realising it was a letter, frowning slightly in confusion as he read the top line 'Dear Peter, second time writing to you in a week. Wow, this is becoming a habit.' His brow furrowed more, slightly lost. He quickly unfolded the other piece of paper and unsurprisingly this one started with 'Dear Peter' suggesting this was the first of said letters. He paused for a moment as he lay the letters on the kitchen counter. Why did Carla have letters for Peter in her bag? Why was she writing to him? It's not as if he lived far away, it wasn't as if she couldn't just pick up a phone to speak to him, or even stop him in the street. Why was a letter necessary? He rubbed his neck slightly as he tried to make sense of the strange situation before turning his attention back to the first letter.<p>

He sighed slightly as he read the first few lines, her description of him, along with her confession. The confession of being in love with him. It wasn't like she hadn't confessed it before, heck Peter had even been tempted once, who wouldn't be, but he was with Leanne, he'd told her so many times that that was final. He couldn't help but smile slightly when she compared him to the past offers she'd had. He didn't understand it either really, she practically had her pick of the bunch, why did she want him? But the smile soon faded as he read the next few lines, the lines explaining how she thought he didn't care about her, how he wouldn't miss her, how he didn't notice her. It was wrong, he did care about her, of course he noticed her, but it was hard, Leanne hated him being around Carla, he couldn't help her all the time and he was generally sorry about that. He wished he could help her more.

He let out an empathetic sigh as he took in her thoughts about booze; how she craved it, how she needed it, how it was their connection. He agreed, it was their connection, without their shared addiction he doubted they would ever have been as close as they had been. He leant against the counter, reading the description she'd written of herself, it was wrong, all wrong. He hated to think that that was how she imagined he thought of her. He knew there was more to her, so much more, and of course he'd wanted to know more, wanted to be there for her, but he couldn't.

Her wonders were just what he had wondered in the past, he'd wondered a lot, especially about their situation, about Leanne, about being a family man. It was around the time she'd confessed her love to him originally, see he had been tempted, very tempted even. But they would never work, they were both too fiery, too dangerous for one another, both being addicts, it would never work, well that was what he had convinced himself.

It was when he read her 'wishes' that a soft smile broke out on his face, as he read about how she wanted to tell him everything. The 'silly things' she was writing about made his smile grow, the bit about cherryade, the seagulls, it was playful and to others meaningless, but the fact that she wanted to share everything with him made him warm inside. He wished she'd written more, this simple facts made him feel like he knew Carla, inside as well as out. It was the simplistic things that made him find her so much more gravitating.

But there was no more written about her wishes and wonders, no more facts about herself, instead there was just the facts about his life, written in black and white staring him back in the face, 'reliable family man'. He wanted to laugh, that was the first time anyone had ever described him as reliable. He wanted what she wanted too, something else they agreed on; her happiness. She hadn't been happy in a long time, but he smiled slightly as he read that she did get a small piece of happiness from seeing him. It made him feel needed and he liked it.

The way she ended the letter made him stare at the paper for a little longer, 'Your Carla', his? She was far from his really, but then again who else did she have? He was happy for her to think of herself as his, he couldn't deny it made him feel good about himself, the fact that she would still want to be his after everything.

He laid the piece of paper back on the counter, picking up the second of the two he had recently discovered.

He felt himself go cold as he read her words, reading how lonely she was, how she felt that her life had come to a standstill. He didn't like the thought of her feeling so helpless and weak. The more he read, the more he realised she had changed. Where was that woman he'd first met all those years ago? The fiery Carla, the strong and independent woman who didn't need anyone and would never dare ask for help. Where was her sultry side and the flirty nature she'd always had a grasp over gone?

He hated reading about how she felt hollow and powerless, it upset him and he wanted to help her more and more. He looked across at her sofa as he took a break from reading, she did look weak and she did look like she'd given up. He arms were now crossed over her body, as if she was hugging herself, it was like she was trying to protect herself from something, but Peter didn't know what, not yet anyway.

He read about her drinking, it was like looking in a mirror. The way she depended on it was just how he was a short while ago. The way she described her drink, 'poison', she knew it was bad for her, and she still wanted it. He knew from the past letter that she was clinging on to alcohol, and she was holding him with it. He wished instead she had just spoken to him, he would've been happy to help her; he would've been her substitute for the booze. Hey, he had to be better than ruining her body didn't he, even Leanne would've understood that. Well, with a hefty amount of explaining involved.

He read on and his thoughts were confirmed, she confessed to wanting him, wanting the stability he had. She sounded so broken, the way she confessed to needing a cuddle, needing support, it was strange, he'd never seen, or even read in this case, her like this.

It was the way she described her need to feel 'safe, loved and wanted', it physically hurt him to imagine her feeling so low. He wanted her to feel all those things, without them he assumed she felt like nothing, which is why she was in the state she was now. He let out a sigh, rubbing his head as it ached from reading about the pain she had been going through. He thought about what he was probably doing when she had been writing this, watching the TV, in the pub with Leanne, cooking tea? It all seemed so pointless when he could've been saving his friend.

His eyes squinted slightly as he read on, about how she needed him earlier, what had happened earlier? He was confused but still he continued to read, the way she felt desperate, the way she wished to be in his thoughts. Well she certainly was now, he could tell you that for sure. She was all he could think about; even Simon didn't slip into his mind at that moment. It was her consuming his every thought, she would like that, he thought to himself.

She was crying out for help, but she was crying on to paper, paper holding a letter that Peter had no knowledge of prior to 10 minutes ago. Her words of feeling 'finished' cut him inside, like sharp blades running through his insides.

'My life has already been wished away. The angels are calling on me... My fights gone and soon I'll be gone with it.'

His eyebrows lowered as his mouth opened slightly, he was confused and slightly scared. She would soon be gone? Why? He had so many questions as he read her words. He was worrying now, panicking at how low she maybe was.

He read on, hoping to know more, but once he'd read the next line he wished he hadn't. It broke him, he could physically feel his heart aching, his mind hurt and he had no way of stopping it. The sharp blades were running all around his body now, those 3 words were like a kick of adrenaline for them, cutting him up more than he thought was even possible.

'I have cancer.'

How could 3 words change so much, in the seconds it took to read them.

He glanced over at her again, his eyes were stinging and his mouth was dry. She needed his help and he hadn't been there. Now she needed his help and he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help her. His eyes were forcing him to blink, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to shut his eyes and miss a second of the woman lying only a short distance away from him. But he gave in, his eyes shut and with that tears began to fall, gently, down his cheeks, running off his jaw and dropping to the floor, running away from him. He wiped his eyes furiously, discarding the paper to the counter again.

He'd noticed this time the letter was only ended with 'Carla'. Where was the 'yours'? Was she no longer his Carla anymore? Well, had she ever been his to begin with? He wanted to change that, he wanted to be everything she wanted of him. He wanted to help her, build her up again and not let anything knock her down. He wanted to be the strong one, give her a break for once. Protect her from the demons that seemed to continually be chasing her.

He vowed to make her feel warm again, make her feel safe, loved and needed.

How was it that two small pieces of paper and a handful of words had the potential to change his life so dramatically?


	4. Chapter 4

This is such a terribly short chapter, I do apologise. But, I will try and possibly get another up tonight and if not, then definitely tomorrow. I just felt we needed a little longer of Peter understanding everything. Hope i've not dragged it out now.  
>Again, reviews are loved so very much! You're all lovely and I will forever be grateful to you all<br>x

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><p>Peter rubbed his forehead quickly, the sudden knowledge of her illness and all his feelings buzzing around inside him causing him to feel wave after wave of excessive heat. He allowed himself to look to where she lay again, she looked so peaceful, so still, but with this new found peace radiating from her came the overwhelming sight of fragility. That was exactly what she was now, fragile, easily broken, lacking strength, needing a careful touch to insure no more damage was caused. Of course Peter knew she'd still put up that tough exterior that she always had, but that was when she was awake, right now she was asleep, and that meant she was left unguarded for him to see.<p>

He walked over to her, feeling a need to be near her at this very moment. He knelt down next to the sofa, making sure he was quiet; not wanting to disturb her from what he could tell was much needed rest. He leant by her side, taking in everything he could, mentally noting everything that had been offered to him so many a time before today. First it was her hair, always so sleek and giving of an undeniable shine. He lifted his hand to it, letting his fingers run through the ends of it, enjoying the feeling of it gliding softly against his skin, he couldn't lie, he'd wanted to caress her ebony locks for so long.

Next he looked to her eyes, they were shut of course, but he needed no reminder of what they looked like, they were mesmerising. They were such a bold shade of green and always held a sparkle, a sparkle he feared she may have lost recently what with the current events occurring. He hoped to god she hadn't. Her sparkle was like the light that kept her burning, and that was what Carla needed right now, to keep burning, to keep living, to keep loving him.

He watched her for a while longer, stroking her hair in a soft rhythm as he did so. It was only when he took in her whole body that he realised how uncomfortable she must be. She might not be feeling it now, but he knew damn well she'd be feeling it in the morning when the effects of tonights intake wore off.

He lifted himself up from the floor, bending slightly so he could scoop her up in his arms. He'd expected her to be much heavier than what she was, she seemed hollow, just how she'd explained, he thought to himself. She stirred slightly at her change in position, her eyes stayed tightly shut but her hands wandered. She moved one to Peters chest, grasping slightly at it, he wondered if she thought he were the pillow or the quilt maybe. The other moved to her face, her index finger falling across the bridge of her nose. Peter couldn't help but smile down at her, he knew if she was awake she'd probably never let him carry her or see her how he was.

He made his way carefully into the bedroom and over to her bed before resting his knee strategically on the side of it, lowering her into the comfort of her mattress. She rolled away from him as he lay her down, pulling one of the soft pillows against her before settling once more. Again, Peter stood and watched her intently, it was as if he felt like she could just float away, disappear into a puff of smoke. He lowered himself onto her bed gently, his legs dangling over the edge as he pulled her thik quilt up over her body. He let his hand reach over to her face, this side of his thumb resting against her defined cheek bone as his fingertip ran gently from the top of her nose to the end of it, up and down in a slow but continuous cycle. He wondered if this was how she meant when she mentioned rubbing her nose in her letter.

He wanted to stay there all night, but he didn't want to invade on her like that. So after a short while he reluctantly lifted himself from her bed and headed back into the living room area. He saw a pad laid on the table and grabbed it before going in search of a pen. Once he'd found what he was looking for her leant against the nearest hard surface and began to scribble something quickly.

I know now and that's all that matters. I'll be here for you through it all, don't you forget that, Car'.  
>I need to sort some stuff out and I'll be back – we have so much to talk about. I've been lying to myself for too long, but things are going to change.<p>

Hope the hangovers not too bad, see you soon

Peter x

He walked over to the kitchen and left it on top of her letters, knowing then she would understand what he meant with his words. He looked across to her bedroom once more, smiling contently as he saw the outline of her lying still through the darkness. With that he made his way to the door, he knew he had so much explaining to do now.


	5. Chapter 5

2 updates in one night, I'm spoiling you all!  
>Anyway, I've done a time jump of a couple of months as I felt if I went over Peter leaving Leanne and going to Carla I'd just be repeating what a lot of fan fics out their have already done. So I thought I'd just skip it and reference back to that time. Hope that makes sense and that you don't mind.<br>Look forward to reading more of your beautiful reviews!  
>x<p>

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><p>Carla stretched as she woke up, rubbing her eyes slightly as the strong light, filtering through the half open curtains, hit her with force. She stayed in her comfortable position for a moment before dragging herself up out of bed, padding her way through to the kitchen. She looked up to the cupboard upon seeing a brightly coloured square upon it. She couldn't help but chuckle as she pulled the post it note from her cupboard, reading what Peter had scribbled upon it.<p>

'I used to be terrified of fish.

So now I eat them.. Fish and chips for dinner sound alright?  
>x'<p>

This was a common occurrence now. Ever since he'd taken residence in her flat, after finding her letters and everything that came with them. He'd taken about a week to sort his life out, ending it with Leanne, trying to sort out his now very dysfunctional family. But it hadn't taken him long to be at Carlas side, day and night. It had been tough for him, his world had practically turned upside down, and it hadn't come without problems.

Firstly there was Simon, the little boy hated Carla, but after the couple of months he had to settle he'd got used to it, hey Carla even thought he might even be becoming to like her now. Then there was Leanne, oh that was a terrible one. She'd actually moved out of Weatherfield.. Carla hated herself for causing her friend so much pain but then she was in pain too and Peter had reassured her that this time she was right to be selfish, told her she needed him a lot more than Leanne did. Carla had worried a lot, worried that he was only with her out of pity, feeling sorry for her after finding out about her having cancer. But, he had taken a lot of time to assure her that this was not the case, he had simply been denying his feelings for a long time.

But the post it notes were not a problem, in fact they were adorable. He'd begun writing them to tell her little facts about him, just how she had in her letters. He wasn't going to lie, he was a terrible writer, there was no way he could match her heartfelt letters, so instead the post it notes were like little snippets, making up the entirety of which would otherwise be a letter. The facts were sometimes silly, sometimes serious, sometimes eye opening and sometimes loving, she never knew what she was going to get, but he made sure she got one at least once a day. She didn't only find them around the flat, sometimes he'd hide them at work, in her bag, in her purse, in her pockets, she'd even found one in her shoe once!

The treatment she was receiving for her cancer was exhausting her, she hated to admit needing help, but she didn't need to these days, now Peter would know when she needed his help, his support. It was on the days where she felt tired, where she ached from it, where she felt willing to throw in the towel and let the horrific illness take her, that he made sure he was at his strongest. He made sure he always had an answer to better her worrying. When she'd ask him why it was worth all the pain he'd speak from his heart, making sure she knew that she was his everything, making sure she understood that if she went, he may as well go with her. He always found that then she felt she had a need to live, a need to stay with him, a need to get better.

But even when he poured his heart out and opened up to her like he had never done for anyone before, she still couldn't help but feel like the cancer was defeating her. He couldn't always be with her and he couldn't always be there to reassure her when she was feeling a bit wobbly, he had to run his business and she had to run hers. She knew having cancer was never going to be an easy ride, but so did Peter and that's why he left the post it notes, reminding her continuously of what they had. The love that they shared. The life that they shared.

Carla sat on the sofa with the coffee she'd just made herself, flicking through one of her contracts that she'd won the other day. She let her mind wander for a second, thinking back to some of her favourite post it notes he'd left her. She remembered the first time he'd left her one, he'd left it on the pillow as she'd still been in the land of nod when he had to leave. It was a bright yellow one, something you don't expect to see on your neighbouring pillow when you wake up.

'Has anyone ever told you that you snore?  
>Good job you still look beautiful when you do it.<br>Lots of love, Peter x'

She remembered laughing as soon as she'd read it. Had he really left her a post it note to tell her she snored? How lovely of him. It was only when she got up and dressed that she noticed another of the sticky squares on her door.

'I love fruit pastels a bit more than I love you.  
>x'<p>

The first of his facts. She loved how he nearly always made them playful, she looked forward to finding them, knowing they'd always bring a smile to her face.

Sometimes they were simple and cheeky,

'Did you know red's my favourite colour?  
>Take that into account when you're getting ready, Si's going to my Dad's this evening.<br>x'

And some were cute and loving,

'Every morning I kiss your nose. You never wake up, but sometimes you look as if you're giving me the smallest smile.  
>I love you<br>x'

No matter what the post it notes would have scrawled upon it, she always looked forward to finding the next one.

It was later in the day, as she walked through the automatic doors of the hospital, it was the first time she'd been for treatment on her own. Peter had tried so hard to be there with her, but he was stuck in a vital meeting with his accountant, something the accountant had refused to move. He'd complained about how unreasonable he was and even tried to bribe him to change the date, anything so he could be by her side. But he hadn't budged, and Carla had to go on her own.

She decided to leave her car there, she didn't feel up to driving so instead she phoned herself a taxi. She waited patiently, leaning against the wall of the old building, the building which was now her life line. She shut her eyes, hoping the time would pass quickly, and it did. The driver beeping his horn and shouting out of his window, asking if she was Carla had made her jump slightly, but she was more than relieved to see her ride home. It was only when she'd reached her flat and opened her purse to pay that she noticed the orange piece of paper, folded and placed in between her notes. She quickly pulled it out and unfolded it

'I've never wanted to hold you more than I do right now. I hope you were strong, darling. I know you will have been. When I get home I promise I'll cuddle you all evening, you can let it all out then, I know you'll hold it all in until then.  
>Stay strong, I know you're a tough cookie. Home at 5ish.<br>I've decided I might love you more than fruit pastels now, but only maybe..  
>x'<p>

She smiled softly, ignoring the coughs from the driver who was trying to get her attention, too consumed thinking about Peter and how he managed to know her so well. A few moments later she handed the impatient man what she owed him before making her way up to her flat. She checked the clock, 4:05, she didn't have long left.

Hours had passed and Peter had returned with Simon. They'd all eaten their fish and chips together, just like Peter had promised earlier. She'd enjoyed her meal but she never really had much of an appetite after treatment, but she'd ate as much as she could. They'd all watched TV together and Simon had done his homework before Peter had taken him to bed. Carla was standing in the kitchen, pouring them both some cranberry juice, when she felt his hands on her hips. She immediately placed the juice down and leant back into him, his arms a welcoming comfort to her tense body. He leant his head forward and placed a soft kiss on her cheek to which she let out a small contented sigh to.

"I've waited all day to have you to myself."

She smiled softly at his words and grabbed the two cups of juice, turning in his arms and passing one to him.

"Me too, darlin'. I really missed you."

Peter had once more apologised to which she'd shaken her head at, knowing it wasn't his fault. More words were exchanged before they made their way over to the sofa.

Peter sat down first and lifted his arm up, waiting for her to join him. She'd quickly complied and was sitting beside him, leaning in to him and gratefully accepting how he held her so close, his hand playfully running through her hair in a soothing motion as she settled against his chest.

They enjoyed the silence for a while before Carla looked up at him, breaking it with a soft voice.

"I got your note." She smiled softly, letting her hand run up across his shoulder gently.

Peter smiled back at her as he nodded, "I thought you might need one after your day. I was sure the promise of cuddles would cheer you up."

She nodded happily, "You know me too well, Barlow."

"Mm.." He mumbled as he pulled her closer to him, "So how was it?"

Carla trailed her hands down, fiddling softly with the material of his shirt as she thought about it.

"It was okay.. Much the same as usual really. I guess I'm just getting used to it now, still hate being in that hospital though. Even though it's only for a while.."

Peter rubbed her back comfortingly.

"I promise you, from now on I'll come to every single appointment with you. I hated the thought of you being there alone today.. "

More comforting words were exchanged and Carla had let out the small amount of tears she'd been holding in, before they made their way to the bedroom where they quickly settled in their usual positions. She lay with her back against his chest, his arms circled around her, rubbing the soft skin of her stomach and hip as she got comfy. He moved his head so it rested in the crook of her neck, pressing soft kisses to her equally soft skin. She let her hands find his beneath the covers, holding onto them tightly, finally letting her eyes rest.

"I can't believe I get to hold you every night.. I love you, beautiful." Peter mumbled gently against her skin, letting his nose rub gently against her ear lobe.

Carla squeezed his hand gently as she heard his words, pulling his arms tighter around herself as she whispered softly back to him.

"Me too darlin'. I'm yours now, forever."


	6. Chapter 6

I'm so sorry about the wait, I've just had terrible writers block with this. Therefore, this is a bit of a crappy chapter and it's incredibly short too. But I've decided to bring this to an end as I've got many more ideas that I'd love to write and I just feel a bit tied with this. So there will be one more chapter after this, but I know what that chapter is going to be and it will be up either later tonight or tomorrow - I do promise it's better than this chapter.

Your reviews are loved more than ever, and thank you so much if you're still reading this! You're all stars

x

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><p>Months had gone by, each day seemed to drag just that little more than the last. She always felt worn out these days, it was what the treatment had done to her. She remembered one day a few months ago when she had looked into her mirror. She'd ran her hands through her hair, strands of it falling out, clumping among her hands. This was one part she hated. She hated feeling that the cancer had made her less of a women.<p>

It had put a strain on her relationship with Peter in more ways than one, but to see herself losing her hair was horrible. Carla had always been so proud of her hair, it always looked good, even when she didn't put any effort into it. She'd been told on more than one occasion that people envied her hair, been told how much they'd wish to swap theirs for her own. She sighed softly, glancing at herself again, they wouldn't be saying such things now. This was a really low day for her, she knew it was going to be tough from then on.

But Peter had made each day that tiny bit better, never forgetting his post it notes. She remembered finding one in the fridge that day, a bright pink one:

You are the most beautiful woman to ever walk into my life.

Never forget that

She remembered thinking how apt it was, on the one day she'd really noticed the differences in herself he just happened to have left that post it note, it was like he knew she would be worrying. She loved feeling that he knew what she was thinking before even she did.

But this was months ago now. She'd grown to realise that losing a bit of hair was not the end of the world. It could have been worse, she could've lost it all, that was all she kept telling herself.

And now, after months of treatment she was finally going to find out if it had worked, if it had stopped the cancer.

Carla was nervous to say the least, heck she was petrified. But at least Peter was coming with her, this way; she would have him to support her, either way. They could smile, and most probably cry happy tears together if she got the all clear and they could cry together if they found out bad news. She knew he would hold her, cuddle her until her tears subsided. Either way, she kept telling herself it would be fine, as long as he was there.

The day passed slower than any day before, minutes seemed like hours and hours seemed like days. All she wanted was for the clock to tell her it was 4 o'clock, now! She was impatient, any one in her shoes would be. But the clock did tick by, and soon she was in the hospital, waiting to see her specialist to get her results. Peter held her hand, but neither of them spoke; the silence seemed like a comfort, no words needed to be said until the results were revealed.

They came out of the little room, both speechless. Neither had said anything since the results had been given to them. They were both just grinning, from ear to ear. Peter looked across at Carla, his grin growing more than he thought was possible.

"Car'.. You did it baby!"

He suddenly moved forwards, slinging his arms around her body. She took comfort in his arms, burying her head in his chest as she began to let the tears flow, happy tears, tears of joy.

"I.. I.. I'm out of the woods." She spoke quietly.

Peter nodded, tears of the same stature flowing from his eyes freely.

"I told you you could beat it! I knew you could!"

Carla nodded, looking up at him, still taking it all in, trying to decipher between the emotions that were buzzing through her body, confusing her.

Peter lunged forwards, pulling her against him and pressing his lips softly against hers, their tears mingling together as their damp skin pressed against each other. She pulled back, smiling through her tears.

"I survived.." She mumbled softly as she felt Peter pull her into an embrace again.

Peter rubbed her back, taking comfort in knowing she could now rebuild herself, something he couldn't wait to help her with. He no longer felt like she could slip between his fingers anymore.

She was solid, they were solid.

They mumbled their thoughts of happiness to each other for a while longer before pulling apart.

"Now let's get you home sweetheart. I've got a surprise for you."

Carla grinned softly as she listened to him, nodding and walking beside him, her head was buzzing, she couldn't believe what had happened, but her emotions of joy and pure bliss racked her body, making her feel whole again. She slipped her hand into his, they had got through this as a team and she couldn't wait to have some happy times now, show him how much she appreciated his strength and how she adored his support in her time of need.

Today was about happiness and she had even more to come.


End file.
